


Tempting Fate

by NicoDiAngeloLover7



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Character Death, Desmond is two years older than Harry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Rare Pairings, The Animus (Assassin's Creed)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoDiAngeloLover7/pseuds/NicoDiAngeloLover7
Summary: All Desmond was trying to do was escape his parents and avoid all Assassins if possible. Not even thinking about the threat of Templars. But it seems everything started to go wrong once he reached England and met a boy he couldn't forget, Harry Potter.
Relationships: Desmond Miles/Harry Potter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 112





	1. An Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hide and Seek](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22503613) by [molmcmahon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/molmcmahon/pseuds/molmcmahon). 



> I probably should stop letting all these ideas get to me and want to write them... But I got inspired by molmcmahon's Hide and Seek fanfic and was hooked onto the Desmond M/Harry P ship. I am trying to work on my other fanfics, but writers block is stopping me. 
> 
> I am dedicating this to my best friend, since she's literally been helping me out with coming up with this idea. She's known as Lillycatdani11 on FFN. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> ~NicoDiAngeloLover7

****

**Tempting Fate – Chapter 1 (An Idea)**

Desmond wasn't sure why he decided this was a good idea. But he figured that escaping to another country would help deter the Assassins that were still looking for him. If it weren't for the close call he had back in New York, he probably wouldn't have pondered on the idea. He had never been so thankful for the Eagle Vision that had detected them and hid. He couldn't believe it had already been two years since he escaped from The Farm. But he figured that was due to him being so used to looking over his shoulder that time simply escaped him.

Desmond couldn't help but thank his luck that he was still so young. It definitely aided him in escaping detection. Most people didn't expect to be looking for a fifteen-year-old and it was easily enough to blend into the crowd. That was one skill he was thankful he had retained, the ability to blend into the shadows and crowds. Essentially almost become invisible itself, it was very useful indeed.

And that's where it brought him, a boat heading to England. Sneaking aboard was easy enough as he would occasionally act like he was trying to find his parents. There had been no questions asked about if he didn't belong there. Everyone he came across seemed to be under the impression that he was. It suited him just fine, the further away from the Assassins… the better. And he doubted they would expect him to head to another country. Any way to be away from the Assassins and his father.

And Desmond almost found himself bored while he was on the boat. He didn't think on how long it may take to reach England. And it was already on week two, he just hoped that he would reach land soon. Being on the boat for so long was driving him crazy. And if he got detected, there wouldn't be much room to make an escape. And he wasn't going to trust diving into what was most likely, icy, cold water. He was trying to escape, not place his death one step further than it needed to be.

It was almost half a week later before they finally reached land. So, Desmond couldn't help but let out a huge groan.

The man next to him chuckled, "You are not the only one glad to reach England. Though I imagine your mother would like to know where you are."

Desmond went red in the face, "I got too excited… she's somewhere back there."

The man nodded, not realizing the lie he was going told. "Comes girls, I imagine you will want some food after being on there for almost three weeks."

Desmond breathed in a sigh in relief, "he had not expected the conversation. It had put his nerves on edge. He didn't hesitate to join back into the crowd as they docked the boat. He wasn't sure exactly where in England he was at, but he was positive he could find out.

The boat docked onto a pier and he found a sign nearby. It read, Welcome to the Worthing Pier!" Desmond didn't doubt that this was a popular location, though he imagined there were several places that the boat could have docked at. But he wanted to get away from the sea and more inland. How far… he didn't know yet.

The sunset that was setting behind him was gorgeous enough. He didn't take but one glance at it while he moved with the people. The pier was quite packed, no doubt this was a tourist location, besides being a place that boats and ships docked at. The boat he had been on wasn't much, it was one of those that was used to haul people over the ocean.

He didn't dare try to ask for rides further in the country. Maybe if he was older, it wouldn't look so suspicious. But he was still a teenager and still looked like one. He didn't think it would be too much of a problem. He had use trains and subways before, New York was notorious for them. And it wasn't that hard to sneak into one. Even if he had to pay, he had some money on him, and he could always pickpocket the people around him.

Desmond didn't really pay much attention to what he was doing. He probably should have as it could have caused him to get caught. But he had been through the process of sneaking into stations and trains, that it came almost second nature now. He knew the times that were best in New York, so this he was going to have to leave it up to chance.

Desmond looked around him, the train was already crowded, but he didn't let that bother him. He did his best work while in crowds. He had a dark glower in his eyes, he remembered feeling suffocated and wanting an exit back in South Dakota. Not to mention that his father could be a right bastard most of the time. The scar on his lip was a right good example of that. But he couldn't help revel in the feeling being able to hide when surrounded.

He quickly lost track of time by the time he snuck out of the train and jumped on the next one. Clapham Junction, which seemed to be even more crowded than the last one. It was easy enough to ignore the people's antics. But he was antsy enough that he wanted off at the next station and maybe explore England a little bit. The night was already dark enough, though he had no perception on the time.

It was easy enough to sneak out with the crowd, most of them were already in a hurry to get to wherever they were going. Though he spotted a sign above his head, "Woking Station." The name seemed familiar, as there were a few cities he had heard of, but never been to.

Desmond frowned; the station looked pretty old. Making him wonder on how long the station had been around. Though he did catch a glimpse of a nearby map. There weren't many people by it, so he took a chance. He took a moment to focus and spread out his Eagle Vision and they all appeared blue. He sighed; it was a good sign where he didn't see any red. Otherwise, he would have just come back later to take a look at the map.

Desmond had a small smile; he was good enough distance from the sea. And he noticed that he wasn't that far from London. He definitely knew of that city, most people did, even those that lived overseas. And if history told their stories right, the Assassins had made their mark there back in the 1800s. Who knows who had it under control now, he had never been privy to that information. He didn't know if he would make his way there, eventually… It was good to keep on the move and not stay for very long. But if there was a sanctuary there, it may not be a good idea to get close.

There was a city that caught his attention, Surrey. He even used his eagle vision on the map, and it showed up golden. It almost made him jump back, he had never seen anything appear gold before. What did that mean?

He already knew that red meant they were his enemies and blue were allies or regular people. There had even been a time that the Assassins he knew appeared blue. But that had changed once he escaped, they now appeared as red. As if reading his mind that they were known his enemies or something.

Desmond sighed, that meant he needed to head towards Surrey, for whatever reason. He just hoped that he would know soon.

* * *

Desmond found it easier to just walk, since Surrey wasn't that far away now. Definitely much closer than it was back in Worthing. He didn't even want to imagine how long it would have taken to walk from there. Probably a good few days' worth at least… He grimaced at the thought, even though he was used to walking for hours on end. It was doing quite a bit of damage to his sneakers. He would need to have a replacement soon. But he figured he could worry about that later.

He didn't know exactly what to expect when he came to a nearby park. He had almost thought it to be deserted. But then spotted a raven-haired boy in extremely baggy clothes. They looked to be almost falling off him. He wasn't sure what to make of him. He almost was going to keep walking until a glimpse of his vision saw fire.

That made Desmond stop in his tracks and jerk his head around. And sure enough, there was a bush lit up on fire. Was that boy playing with matches or something?

He took a deep breath and tried to focus. It used to take all of his focus to be able to use Eagle Vision, now it was no effort. But he still had to focus somewhat.

His jaw dropped; the bush that was currently on fire was lit up gold. What was going on?

"You!" Desmond shouted at the boy.

He watched as the boy jumped, obviously caught off guard.

"You made that catch fire," Desmond said.

It sounded both a statement and question, obviously wanting answers.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It was on fire when I got here," the boy defended.

Desmond noticed the smaller boy looked nervous but pushed on.

"You're lying. It wasn't on fire a minute ago," Desmond's eyes narrowed.

This boy was hiding something, but he wasn't lit up in red. So, he wasn't an assassin or enemy… It was weird… he was also lit up in gold…

"I lost control," the boy mumbled.

"You lost control?" Desmond repeated.

That's when the boy actually looked at him and Desmond had never seen a brighter green.

That's when the boy cursed, "Oh… your muggle… I'm going to be in so much trouble…"

"Muggle? How about you start making sense…"

The boy sighed and looked around him. There was still nobody in view except those two. And the fire on the bush was already going out. He didn't think it would hurt to explain who he was. Maybe he was like himself… He just didn't realize it, considering there was no sign of a notice being sent out. Like last time…

Desmond didn't dare to interrupt this boy… this Harry… as he spoke. They had exchanged names shortly after Harry began his tale.

"So, you're telling me… that what you did was magic… but you lost control?" Desmond asked, still feeling baffled.

Harry nodded, "when I'm feeling high amounts of emotion… I tend to lose control…"

"Maybe that's why I saw it as golden…" Desmond muttered.

"Gold?" Harry asked, interested.

Desmond was at a lost, he didn't know how to explain it.

"Uhh… It's a certain ability I have. Usually it's good for finding enemies and my allies. But somehow I can see the magic and it looks gold…"

The explanation sounded weak to Desmond's ears, but it seemed Harry took it all. And what more… he believed what he was saying.

"Tell me about this… Hogwarts. Is it a school?" Desmond asked.

Harry grinned at that, "It's a castle in Scotland. I go there to learn how to control my magic."

Desmond gave a faint smile, "sounds interesting…"

Harry's eyes brightened, "it really is! I'm supposed to leave for it next month."

That's when Harry started to explain the classes that he was in and what each class did.

"The school remains hidden?" Desmond suddenly asked.

Harry nodded, "and protected by enchantments and wards. I've never known a more guarded place." He never said it was the safest place… clearly remembering his first and second year. It wasn't quite safe those years.

Desmond looked wistful at the thought. He wondered if any of the Assassins would be able to breach that school? Though it were possible that if there were Assassins in this country, they could be a witch or wizard like Harry was. But he doubted they would have heard of his name, least he hoped they hadn't. That sounded like the perfect way to hide from them.

"Not that I mind the company, but I figured everyone would be back home at this hour…" Desmond said before cutting himself off.

Harry glowered at that, "my relative's sister is there, and I rather not be there."

Desmond noticed that Harry's tone was sharp, and he evidently didn't want to be questioned about it. He could understand that, maybe that was why he was wearing such poor shaped clothing. He wondered if that meant that those so-called relatives didn't like him? He already seemed really thin, thinner than he was at that age. And he had been on the run from his family and the Assassins.

There was still the lasting curiosity of wanting to see this Hogwarts. He doubted that he probably could go, he didn't have magic as far as he knew. He was an Assassin and he had never heard about magic or magic schools before now. But that didn't mean it wasn't possible. And it was obvious that someone without magic probably wouldn't be able to go there. But that didn't mean the temptation and want wasn't there. And from Harry's description of the castle, the halls, stairs… it was a sight to behold. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to walk down those halls. Would that mean he didn't have to look over his shoulder then? That would be a dream in itself?

"Obviously, you know why I'm here. What about you? I've never seen you before and I've lived here for years," Harry asked.

Desmond shook his head, "you wouldn't understand."

Harry stared defiantly at him, "try me."

Desmond snorted, "fine… I ran away to get away from my controlling parents…"

Harry looked stunned at that; it definitely wasn't the answer he was expecting. He wasn't sure what he was expecting honestly.

"And I doubt you would have seen me before, I'm not from here."

Harry rolled his eyes, "that I could tell. Your accent is weird."

"Its American…"

Harry gaped at him; he knew the accent was different. Though he seemed quick to catch on his words. Almost copying the accent, but he didn't expect that. Granted he had never been to the America's, the Dursleys would never take him anywhere. Not wanting to ever find enjoyment, only misery. He just didn't expect for him to be that far away, though his clothing was a bit weird. Maybe it was an American fashion? Or was it because the Dursleys kept him so out of the loop, he didn't really know what the style was now. The outer jacket he was wearing looked comfortable enough. And the jeans were familiar enough, though it looked like a different type of material than he was used to seeing.

"No need to be shocked—" Desmond cut himself off.

"Desmond?" Harry asked, suddenly unsure.

Harry looked at his new… friend… he didn't have really any in the muggle world. He was definitely better than the current company back at the Dursleys. But he was slowly beginning to worry. Desmond suddenly tensed up and had a look of fear in his eyes. He wasn't sure why and it was starting to scare him. Desmond had mentioned a special vision, did he see something he couldn't?

"You need to hide!" Desmond demanded; his voice desperate.

"Desmond… what are you talking about?" Harry asked confused.

"No time… GO RUN!" Desmond's voice demanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to try my hand at creating a moodboard. All the images is from Google. I don't own any of them, the rights go straight to its amazing creators/artists. 
> 
> ~NicoDiAngeloLover7


	2. A Long Way From Home

**Tempting Fate – Chapter 2 (A Long Way From Home)**

"No time… GO RUN!" Desmond demanded.

Harry's eyes widened in fright, but his voice was enough to knock him into action. He was already on his feet, so it wasn't hard to run in the opposite direction. He didn't go far, which probably could have been a horrible decision on his part. Obviously, Desmond thought there was some type of danger and it wasn't like he could use magic freely. The letter from the Ministry still rang clear in his mind. And he didn't think it would be a good idea to get a second warning.

Harry wished he never had stayed a good distance away. Because the next thing that happened was sure to remain in his mind forever.

Desmond had tried to run into the opposite direction.

The air went dead silent as something shot the runaway Assassin.

"Desmond Miles, you are a hard lad to find…" a man said lowly.

"Desmond crumbled to the ground; he could hardly keep his eyes open.

Who are you?"

Harry watched in horror as some weird man picked up his unconscious new friend. Lugging Desmond over his shoulder. He just watched in despair as he was carried away and he couldn't do a thing.

Was that the danger that Desmond had detected? What did they want with him? Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know. He didn't even know if those men had magic or not? His eyes stared at the place where Desmond had collapsed. He didn't think they did, they never used a stunner. Did that mean Desmond wouldn't live to survive whatever they wanted with him? Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know that answer. But he couldn't help but hope that maybe Desmond may survive. He had run away before, maybe he could again. Though he imagined it would be different than running away from your parents.

Harry wasn't sure how long he just stared at that spot. But it was dark by the time he realized that he needed to head back to his relative's house. A place he hated with passion but couldn't escape from. But he didn't have any choice, so with a heavy heart, he made the slow trek back.

Normally Harry wouldn't be able to escape the jabs at his dead parents. Today, he had been tuning it all out. The anger that he had felt earlier, gone. It had been the reason he went to the park and now this… He wasn't sure he was able to feel anything at the moment. He just felt numb.

And for once, his aunt and uncle didn't try to bother him. If anything, they were trying to send him away back to his 'so called… bedroom.' If it had been any other time, he would have appreciated getting away from Marge. Her comments weren't even fazing him, which probably helped keep the bargain that he had with his uncle. But that was the last thing on his mind.

There was one thing that remained constant though, mindless worry.

That never stopped the scene from being on constant replay in his mind. Watching Desmond collapse and being carried away. He didn't think he would ever know who those men were, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Was it possible that he could be kidnapped?

Harry felt a shiver run through his body. It had never crossed his mind that it could happen. He still lived in the muggle world and you occasionally heard about kidnappings. There had been a number of times that he heard something about it on the telly. But he had never really paused to actually listen and pay attention to it. Maybe he should have, but he doubted that would change anything. But he couldn't forget that look of fear on Desmond's face.

Though he looked to be around his age, he had looked so terrified. Had Desmond known that they were coming for him? He had said that he had run away from his parents… but what if he was also running from something else?

Harry groaned in frustration, he had so many questions that remained unanswered. And the only person he knew that could answer them was gone. Was that what Desmond meant by when he said that he wouldn't understand. He knew there was something he wasn't telling him. Maybe that was it.

He looked out his window, Hedwig was still out hunting. He could ask Hermione about it, but he felt she would be just as lost as he was. Maybe even lecture him for going to the park. He had even expected Desmond to question him more. But he didn't, he took the answer at face value and didn't challenge his words. He saw the faded scar on lip, it reminded him of his own. And not the one that displayed on his forehead.

He just hoped that maybe he could ask Desmond about it. And for once he may not mind sharing his own. But he felt that hope would most likely be slim and rare.

* * *

Desmond felt his heart racing when he woke up. He felt this overwhelming sense of panic and the first thing he noticed was the white walls around him. He recalled feeling a blindfold on him, but it was gone now.

There was a metal table under him, it felt cold to the touch as it sapped the warmth from his clothes. There were windows all around, letting in light to the room. But there were also two metal doors that looked sealed. The room gave him a bad feeling.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Desmond cried out, trying to get away from the table he was on.

"Now there, there, Mr. Miles," came a male voice.

"Who the hell are you?!" Desmond demanded upon seeing an older man with a lab coat.

"I am Dr. Warren Vidic, if you must know."

"What the hell do you want with me!?" Desmond growled, not liking this.

"Your memories."

"So, what… you just kidnap a kid off the street?"

"But you aren't just any kid, are you? You're an Assassin," Vidic said.

Desmond gave a nervous glance between Vidic and the woman by the computer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," his voice tight.

"No need to play dumb with me, Mr. Miles. I know your history about running away from 'The Farm' two years ago and how you tried to escape to England. Not to mention, you have information we want, all locked away in that mind of yours. And you can either help us freely or with force."

Desmond gulped at that; he wasn't sure he would like the second option. And it was apparent that they didn't really care that he was still a teenager.

"You will find it most unpleasant and you don't even have to be conscious for it. Which of course will result in your death. So, what will it be? Do we need to do things by force?" Vidic asked.

"No," Desmond muttered.

"I thought you might see it my way. Dr. Stillman, if you please."

"Desmond, you will need to lay back down," Dr. Stillman requested.

Desmond didn't want to, that table or contraction felt ice cold to the touch. But he knew he didn't have much of a choice. And without further prompting he laid back down, though he felt occasional shivers run through him.

"A wise decision, one that will save your life… for now…" Vidic stated.

Desmond shivered at the threat.

He half listened to their explanation on what machine he was lying on. Something called the… Animus. He didn't really care what it was. But it somehow allowed them to view his so called 'locked memories.' And it wasn't hard to figure out what ancestor of his they wanted.

Altaïr Ibn-LaʼAhad. He could recall the teachings when he was younger, before he had run away. Altaïr had been credited in restoring the Brotherhood after Al Mualim had corrupted its purpose, not to mention he had been one of the youngest Mentors to date. He had always found him to be interesting. To learn how he had arrogantly broken all three tenants and later shifted to the wise Assassin that he would be known for. And now it looked like he was going to be forced to view his ancestor's memories.

"Dr. Vidic, do you remember what we discussed?" Dr. Stillman asked, not even looking up from her computer.

The man just scoffed and walked away.

She rolled her eyes while muttering under her breath.

"Desmond, this will feel a bit disorienting at first. Just remember that everything you are seeing is not actually happening. These are just memories."

Desmond just stayed silent; he didn't know these people. He didn't want to know them. He didn't ask to be kidnapped and brought here… wherever… here was. But again… he had little choice in the matter.

If there was anything he was glad about, it was that they didn't find Harry. He hoped he had done as he asked and ran without looking back. He sure hoped that he didn't witness him being kidnapped, he wouldn't wish that on anyone. But he couldn't help but remember the fear and unnerved look in those brilliant green eyes. Maybe one day he could explain himself… but that was not today, if ever…

* * *

Desmond had no conception of time while in that… machine… or Animus. He honestly didn't care what it was called. But it could have been hours… minutes… he didn't know.

"Dr. Stillman, what are you doing?"

The woman looked at Dr. Vidic defiantly. "Doing exactly what I told you I was doing."

"He needs to be in there. There is too much work to be done."

Dr. Stillman laughed, "and have another subject 16 on our hands. He is not an adult. He can't handle hours and hours of exposure. His mind isn't mature and stable enough for that. It's already a risk with him being in there as long as he was."

Dr. Vidic almost looked angry.

Desmond was almost scared for Dr. Stillman, but she remained firm. He already knew that nothing would bode well for who made that man angry. But he just let out a huge sigh.

"Very well…" he muttered before leaving the room.

Desmond watched him leave, not daring to breath a word. He didn't want Dr. Vidic ire to be focused on him.

"Don't worry about him, take the rest of the day and rest if you can. We can resume in the morning," Dr. Stillman said before taking her leave.

Desmond felt confused and it wasn't by the events he was seeing. But what did they mean by 'another subject 16?' Did something happen to him or her?

* * *

Harry had hoped by the time he was boarding the Hogwarts Express and heading to Hogwarts that his worries would lessen. They hadn't.

Probably the only thing good about this whole thing was that his Uncle Vernon had kept to his word. His uncle had not looked pleased about it, never liking the idea of his nephew having any fun. But it wasn't like Harry was going to entirely enlighten his uncle about what Hogsmeade is.

And just like his Uncle had promised, Marge was gone after that week. A week that he could scarcely remember. It felt like he was more going through the motions than actually doing anything. Which is probably why he was staring out of the window, waiting for the train to move.

He hadn't seen Ron or Hermione yet and he was a bit glad for it. And then… at the same time he wasn't. He was sure they could be able to distract him, for how long… he didn't know. He didn't even have time to think about Mr. Weasley's warning.

The man had only warned him about Black not even thirty minutes ago. And that had brought the confusion. What would Black want with him?

Everyone said that Black was a murder, but was he a kidnapper as well? Was he helping those took Desmond? Maybe they mistaken Desmond for himself? Even if they had, would they have let him go or killed him?

Again, it was too many questions and no answers. But it caused a shiver to engulf his body.

But… those men didn't have magic, or they would have stunned him. And Black was a wizard, would he really resort to muggle means?

Harry had to shake his head, he really needed to get a grip. It had been a month and he still felt as frantic as the day it happened. Which he didn't find a good feeling, how was he going to last the rest of the year if he kept acting like this?

Suddenly someone's fingers were in front of him, snapping.

Harry had jerked back slightly before realizing there was something in front of them.

It was Hermione.

"Harry, you alright? You've been out of it for half an hour," she asked concerned.

"I don't know…" Harry mumbled.

Hermione and Ron shared a look.

"Whatever it is, you can tell us," Hermione said.

"Can't keep everything bottle up inside, mate," Ron helpfully added.

Hermione glared at Ron, who just sheepishly grinned at her.

"Thinking about Black isn't going to do you any good," Hermione said.

"Its not him!" Harry barked.

Hermione looked taken back and hurt.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Its… it's not him."

Hermione and Ron looked confused.

"Who is it, mate?" Ron asked.

"I met a friend this summer…" Harry started.

Hermione's eyes perked up; interest piqued.

"He saw me doing accidental magic…" Harry revealed.

"Harry!" Hermione lectured.

The small Gryffindor rolled his eyes, "don't tell me it doesn't happen to you on occasion, Hermione."

Hermione huffed, "well… yes…"

"I don't think it really surprised him, maybe at first… He says he 'saw' my magic."

"He could be a squib," Hermione thought out loud.

Harry nodded, that thought did come across his mind.

"Something happened, that's why you're so worked up?" Hermione guessed.

Harry nodded.

"I'm not sure exactly what happened. All of sudden, Desmond tells me to run—"

"Desmond?" Hermione cut in, before realizing what she did.

Harry continued after she muttered a quiet sorry.

"I think he saw something I couldn't. I ran… but I looked back and hide. I felt like I had to know what he saw or noticed," Harry's voice grew pained.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione said softly, slightly catching on what had happened.

"He fell… and I just stood there… I didn't do anything. Then they just took him," Harry went quiet, a tear fell down his cheek.

Hermione grabbed Harry into a quick hug while Ron just gave him an awkward pat on the back.

"I can't imagine what that must have felt like," Hermione had tears in her eyes.

"I don't even know if he's alive, he could be dead for all I know…" Harry cried out.

Hermione looked unsure, she wanted to comfort her friend. But what could she say? That he was probably alive… She didn't even know this… Desmond… fellow. But he clearly had a bond with her best friend.

"Oh… Harry… I know it may not seem like it. But it'll get better…"

Harry hiccupped, "how? When they find his body?"

Hermione looked unsure; she didn't think there was a way to make Harry believe things would be okay. And Ron wasn't any help, he looked as lost as her, if not more. And she didn't want to voice what she really thought. That maybe Sirius Black may have been behind it and he could already be dead. Especially if that mass murderer mistaken this Desmond for his friend. But there was another part of her that knew that occasional kidnappings could happen. It was rare where she lived, but she did remember her mum and dad talking about it once or twice.

"Harry, he may still be alive, you have to believe that," Hermione pleaded.

"I don't know what to believe right now…" Harry mumbled.

Hermione gave Harry a helpless look before she felt coldness wash over her. She felt like she had lost all the happiness in the world.

And Harry collapsed and screamed… and screamed…

Then there was a glowing silver orb that transformed into a wolf. She was stunned as she watched the glowing magic chase away some dark creature.

Hermione tried to curl Harry's body to her, he was shivering against her.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Let me see him," the man that had been sleeping had asked.

Hermione nodded and backed away slowly. She had forgotten that he had been in the compartment this whole time.

The older man slid his hands underneath Harry's legs and upper back. Since the 13-year-old had fallen out of the seat, the man eased him on the seat spread out.

He smiled as Harry began to slowly regain color to his face.

"Your friend will be fine; he was simply overwhelmed by its presence."

"What was that?" Hermione's voice sound frightened.

"A dementor, one of the guards of Azkaban. No doubt searching the train for Sirius Black."

"Thank you—" Hermione begin to say.

"Professor Lupin," he provided her.

Hermione's eyes went wide with excitement, "you're the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!?"

Remus smiled, "he will awaken in a few minutes. Give him this, Dementors can have a terrible effect on people. You will need to divide it amongst yourselves. I will be back; I must have a word with the conductor."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. Her gaze wandered back over to Harry, who was starting to stir after fifteen minutes or more had passed.

"Harry!? Harry!?" Hermione was frantic.

Harry's eyes flashed open and quickly looked around him. As if he was trying to find someone.

"Harry… Professor Lupin went to talk to the driver," Hermione said.

"Not him… Desmond?!"

"Harry… he's not here… he's probably never been here… you said he was kidnapped remember?"

Harry's face looked crestfallen at that, he looked like he was about to start crying again.

That's when Hermione saw the new arrival.

"Professor!" she cried. "What's wrong with him? He thinks his friend was here."

"Calm down… it's okay. Mr. Potter, I would eat some of that chocolate, it will help," Remus said calmly.

Harry nodded as he took a small bit. Though he notice it did help some, not much.

"Dementors are a foul creature, they bring forth your worst memories or fears. And can suck the happiness from you until you are left with nothing but misery," Lupin explained.

"What did you see," Lupin asked gently.

"Desmond…" Harry choked, "he was dead…"

Remus nodded, "It is nothing but an illusion in your mind. You must separate the two of them. I am deeply sorry to hear about your friend. But Dementors will thrive on that pain. It is not real. Though I am sad to say I can not provide you any comfort about your friend."

Harry nodded; it didn't make him feel any better about it. He still could recall that intense fear, screaming as he saw a knife slam into Desmond's body. It had felt so real… Maybe that's what actually happened that day at the park… Desmond hadn't been just kidnapped and never to be seen again. He had been killed and they may have disposed of his body. Was there any blood… He couldn't remember.

Harry had to shake his head, maybe the professor was right. That creature… that Dementor… was using his fears against him. But it was so hard to shake those images from his mind.

Harry breathed deeply as he took another bite of chocolate. It was helping… Slowly regaining the warmth that he had lost.

"Its only been a month… its only been a month… he's not dead… he's not dead…" Harry kept repeating to himself.

He wasn't sure if he quite believed it, but Hermione and Ron looked hopeful and full of worry.

"He made an impact on you," Hermione noted.

Harry nodded, "I don't know how… but he did. Maybe because he didn't know WHO I was and just listened and seemed to accept me. It felt like some sort of bond… I don't know…"

"There are some scenarios where a witch or wizard's magic can bond with another. It would be hard to explain if he was a muggle. But that doesn't mean it doesn't happen," Remus cut in.

Hermione looked intrigued by that. She had never heard of such a thing.

"I'm sure you would feel it if he were dead," Hermione brought up.

"Can't lose hope just yet, mate," Ron attempted.

Harry looked unsure, "I don't know…" But there was a strike of hope that maybe Hermione was right and this new professor as well. He himself had never heard of such a thing. Did this have anything to do with that special vision of Desmond's? He just figured it was normal worry for a friend. Did that mean there was something he wasn't seeing… Something that Desmond knew that he didn't.

Harry growled frustrated, he just wished he had some type of answer. And he was tired of the tears that had been running down his face earlier. His voice already felt hoarse as if he had been screaming. He wanted answers… but he also knew he wasn't going to get any…


	3. Doubt and Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm steadily trying to work on the rest of my WIPS as I'm working on these one-shot fanfics for the Rare Pair Bingo Fest. Hope you enjoy!! Let me know if you have an ideas of your own! 
> 
> ~NicoDiAngeloLover7

**Tempting Fate – Chapter 3 (Doubt and Despair)**

It was hard for Desmond to tell how much time had passed since he had been kidnapped by this… Abstergo. Obviously by now he knew it was just a cover face for the Templars' operations. The days had quickly molded together. But most every morning he had been forced into that… machine of theirs. It was still ice cold to the touch, but he didn't know how real Dr. Vidic's threat was. By the grimace of Dr. Stillman, he assumed it had to be real enough.

Dr. Stillman still allowed him frequent breaks in and out of the Animus. Something that seem to irritate Dr. Vidic to no end and Desmond was pleased to see that it did. But Dr. Stillman had been nice to him, he didn't want anything to happen to her. Though there were some moments that his brain felt slightly fuzzy and he had been immediately pulled out. He didn't realize that they had been monitoring him while he had been in that thing.

Though as each memory played for Altaïr, the more and more intrigued he was by his ancestor. He had never realized the lengths that Altaïr had to go to get his honor and rank back. It was kind of a humbling experience to watch and almost live. And as each kill was performed, he got more and more of his skills back. Then there had been the real shocker, one that he had never expected. Al Mualim, an Assassin Mentor had essentially betrayed his own and violated a tenant that Altaïr had previously violated. And that artifact that he held… is that why the Templars wanted him and his memories? So, they could twist the lives of men and bend them to their will? He always almost glad that Altaïr had killed his mentor. The man had become corrupted by power and greed.

And so, Desmond knew he needed to escape. But first he needed Dr. Vidic out of the picture. He wasn't sure about Dr. Stillman, she seemed to have sympathy for him. Maybe he could use his young age to his advantage? He knew that he didn't have much time left and that he couldn't risk going back in that thing. So, he slipped one of the steak knives from a previous dinner into his hoodie. Nobody said a word. Not about that a knife and potential weapon went missing. Nothing.

And it wouldn't be until the next morning that Desmond decided that he would put his plan into action. He wasn't sure how much time he had left. And he wasn't stupid enough to not know that Dr. Vidic would kill him as soon as his usefulness ran dry. So, if he had to beat Dr. Vidic to that, then so be it. It wasn't like he hadn't killed before, Assassin blood run through him. He had already started to regret that he ran from that. Maybe not escaping to England, because he had met Harry. And there hadn't been a day that his mind hadn't thought of him.

He still worried about the raven-haired boy he met that day. His bright emerald eyes never left any of his dreams. And so, his mind would make him endlessly think if he had made it out alive and away from the Templars. He needed to get back to England. Maybe he could find out where he lived from the park that he had first met him at. Surely, it couldn't be that hard to find a raven-haired teenager.

Though Desmond wasn't even sure he was still in England for that matter.

Though the morning came sooner than Desmond had expected it to. He could feel the knife still hidden within his hoodie. The heavy material had helped mask its presence, something he took advantage of.

Then he reacted.

Dr. Vidic had walked into Subject 17's room to wake him, expecting it to be just like any other day. Perhaps the last one he would have to deal with the irritating teenager. Though he would never expect on how literal 'last day' would mean, especially for him.

Desmond watched as the doctor choked up on blood. His hand faintly going for the handle before collapsing on the floor. The blade was still firmly in his chest as blood spilled all around him. His white lab coat wasn't white anymore. It was now stained with blood.

"You'll never escape here… you'll be dead before you walk out the door," he gasped.

Desmond frowned, "then you don't know me very well… doctor," he mocked.

Desmond carefully stepped around the Doctor, not really wanting to get blood on his shoes and leave a trail for them to follow. He didn't hesitate to pull the bloody knife out of the doctor's chest. Didn't know when he might need it again. Though he didn't hesitate to wipe the blood on the bed, so it didn't look as incriminating.

Dr. Stillman never walked in the room and Desmond was slightly grateful for that. He wasn't sure if she was an ally yet to him.

"Alright, Desmond, need you to get back into the Animus," Dr. Stillman called out.

Desmond stayed put.

When Dr. Stillman still didn't hear any movement, she looked up.

"Desmond, there isn't time for games."

"I'm not going back in there and you can either help me or get the hell out of my way," Desmond stated.

Dr. Stillman sighed, "I'm not your enemy, Desmond…"

Desmond's eyes flared, "Aren't you? You're just like them, already preparing to kill me after I go in there."

"Of course not! I'm trying to help you!" Dr. Stillman exclaimed.

"Prove it!" Desmond demanded.

"I'm with one of you!"

"And say I believe you, why should I trust anything you say? Maybe you were the one responsible for finding me…" Desmond folded his arms.

"You don't… but if you want to get out of here alive. You need to trust me. I have some Assassin allies that I planned for you to meet up with. They'll meet us at the ground level."

Desmond frowned at that but didn't reply to that. He wasn't sure if he was to trust her or not.

It was as Dr. Stillman was unlocking the door that her eyes caught a glimpse of something.

That was when Desmond realized that if anyone had looked towards his 'prison room', it would be a bit obvious what happened. Considering there was a body in view, and it could only be one person.

Dr. Stillman lunged at him.

And with the knife that was still in Desmond's grasp, he plunged it into her chest. She collapsed to the ground and placed a hand to where the knife was imbedded in her.

"Guess that's my answer after all, just another one of those fucking Templars," Desmond spat at her.

"You'll never make it out of here alive," she gasped. "You'll be dead before you reach the next room."

"Guess I'll find out… no thanks to you. You Templars are all alike. And here I thought you actually might be sympathetic," Desmond commented.

Dr. Stillman glared at him, "no better than you Assassins! I should have let you die in that Animus!"

Desmond grabbed the access pass that Dr. Stillman dropped. No doubt it could be his way out of here. And he knew a little bit around due to his 'exploring…' So, finding the elevator wasn't hard to find. And if he grabbed one of the batons from a random security guard to knock two out, then he did. It was easy to find a path using his Eagle Vision to find his way down. And Dr. Stillman had mentioned a garage. Did that mean the Assassins that were trying to rescue him before… were down there?

It wasn't the best plan to have, but it was better than being in that room and getting killed himself. And he wasn't going to stand idle and not fight. If he died… then at least he would die fighting as an Assassin and not a coward.

A pair of emerald eyes flashed in his mind.

Desmond took a deep breath and maybe… maybe he could find Harry again. He wasn't sure why he felt a bond towards him, but he meant something to him. And he was going to do all he could to find him again. Even if it meant finding that damn magic castle in Scotland.

Desmond raised the baton once more, prepared to strike…

"Desmond! We're on your side," was the yell.

Desmond didn't strike, but he didn't relax either.

"Last person that told me that wound being a Templar!" he growled.

The woman looked like she had been slapped. She was wearing a pair of brown pants with a white long-sleeve, covered up by a brown jacked.

"We're part of the rescue team. We were sent to bring you to a safehouse, out of their clutches."

Desmond hesitantly lowed the baton. The woman definitely looked shocked, maybe she was the Assassin that Dr. Stillman mentioned. And she didn't make him want to tense up or attack.

"Say I believe you…"

"Would you rather keep company with the Templars behind you?"

Desmond frowned, but he figured that maybe this… Assassin was his best shot right now.

The Assassin waited for Desmond to get into the car before she got in and started driving.

"Where exactly am I?" Desmond asked.

"Italy," she answered.

"Italy!? Does that have anything to do with Warren Vidic?" Desmond asked.

Desmond watched as the Assassin nodded.

Desmond sighed; he had never been a fan of Vidic. He was honestly glad he had killed him. Plus, that was one less Templar that he had to worry about.

"You obviously know my name, so who the hell are you?"

"Rebecca Crane. Lucy was supposed to arrange your escape, but it had been several months before we heard anything… but we never knew—"

"That she was never an Assassin…" Desmond finished.

Rebecca didn't answer, she just kept driving.

"What!? Months?" Desmond exclaimed, as if he just realized this.

Desmond was in a bit of a shock at that revelation. He would have guessed it may have been a month at most. How long had he been trapped in that facility?

"Its January now," Rebecca confirmed.

Desmond just sat there in silence. How could he have not noticed so much time had passed. Wasn't he kidnapped back in August or September? That made it over four months, maybe five. And then he felt the car stop.

"Its not much, but its somewhere where the Templars won't expect us," Rebecca explained.

Desmond nodded and followed after her. To meet someone else…

It was an older man.

"Rebecca, I was wondering when you would get back. Where's Lucy?" he asked.

And then he noticed the newcomer and looked taken back.

"Not to mean any offense, but isn't he a bit on the young side for this level of work?"

Desmond instantly disliked him.

"What business is that to you!"

"Easy Shaun, meet Desmond Miles," Rebecca intervened.

"So, this is the legendary Desmond… you don't look like much," he noted.

"I don't see Vidic and Stillman dead by your hands," Desmond retorted.

"Lucy's dead?"

Rebecca nodded, "she was one of them, Shaun."

Desmond was almost amused to see the older man almost lose his balance.

"But Desmond, we still need your help," Rebecca turned her attention back to the fifteen-year-old.

"You realize I'm only fifteen… what do you expect me to do?"

"You remember your training though. They may not have gained the map on any of the Pieces of Eden. But they're still looking for them and we think you may be able to help."

"I just want to get back to England," Desmond protested.

"Would you really let these Templars get their hands on one of these pieces?" Rebecca asked.

Desmond sighed, "no… I wouldn't. But I never finished my training."

Desmond didn't like what Rebecca was hinting at. He just wanted to get back to England and find Harry. But maybe this had to take a higher priority. He had seen what one of those apples could do. And he had tried to forget who he was once, and he couldn't allow that to happen again.

"There's a way to get that training and it would only take a matter of weeks. A month or two at most. Though the Bleeding Effect you could learn years of training in that short matter of time. But we can't forget that the Templars have their eyes set on Italy for a reason. We believe its because of the Vault," Rebecca explained.

Desmond looked interested upon the fact that he would be able to absorb one of his ancestors' training in that quick amount of time. At least it probably wouldn't take as long opposed to when he explored Altaïr's memories. But he had no idea what she meant by Vault. And he didn't think he would get an answer if he asked. But he knew that if anything, they needed to get one of those pieces before the Templars could. Then maybe…he could find some way to get back to England. But it looked like he was going to have to stay in Italy for a bit.

* * *

The month of September had been no better than the one in October. First had been the rumors about Sirius Black and where he wanted to kill Harry. And Harry didn't want to hear any more of it. His emotions already felt wrecked from that night on the train. And even more so at the Opening Feast. Apparently, word had spread that he had passed out because of a Dementor.

Because Malfoy was mocking him by doing poses of him fainting. Harry tried to ignore it; he really did. Because all it was doing was going to remind him of why he passed out and what he saw. And all he wanted to do was forget about that. His friends and Professor Lupin even told him it was nothing but an illusion.

Then there was a voice and Harry had never been so glad to hear it.

"Mr. Malfoy, that is clearly a fellow student you are insulting. How would you like it if a Dementor forced you to witness your mother or father dying?!" Percy's voice was furious. "Nothing to say?! Good… Now maybe you can do your House some honor by keeping your trap shut!"

The Great Hall echoed in applause and there was a very noticeable blush on Percy's cheeks. But it wasn't like he was going to tolerate bullying of a student if he couldn't help it.

Then there was another voice and Harry didn't know if he should laugh or not.

"Didn't you cry for your mum the first month you were here, Draco?"

It had been an older Slytherin. Possibly a 6th or 7th year and he hadn't even looked up from his dinner. But the voice had been loud enough to echo through the hall.

Harry didn't have to look that Malfoy either was red in embarrassment or anger. That didn't stop the Great Hall from erupting into laughter. But then he noticed the embarrassed look from Ron, who was sitting across from him.

"Ron? What's wrong? How did Percy know that?" Harry asked.

Percy cleared his throat, "that may have been my little brother's doing…"

Harry looked at the older Weasley in question.

"Ron had been acting a bit odd and wound up telling me what happened. While I do know that is a very personal matter. I was not going to allow a young student be allowed such atrocious behavior," Percy revealed.

Harry wasn't sure what to think on the emission. One, he was a bit annoyed that Ron had admitted what happened to Percy. But he could understand why he did it. He was worried and figured if he couldn't help, his brother could. And he was a bit relieved that Percy did intervene. He doubted any of the professors would have came to his defense.

Harry didn't even know who was the Slytherin that made that side comment. His lips twitched at the thought. No doubt that some students would use this as blackmail.

"Percy, who was the Slytherin that made that comment?" Harry asked.

Percy looked up at Harry, "Marcus Flint, he's one of the Slytherin Prefects. I'd imagine he'd be up for the position of Headboy next year."

"The Slytherin captain?" Hermione questioned.

"Exactly the same. Though he turned down that position this year," Percy confirmed.

"I thought Flint would be buddies with Malfoy," Harry admitted.

"Not at all, he's one of them that actually can't stand the blunt bullying. I imagine he's been waiting for an excuse to say that for a while…"

Harry looked thoughtful at that, he never expected to hear that. He had always believed that Slytherins were the worst sort and that everyone followed Malfoy's every word. Did that mean there were other Slytherins that didn't quite believe Malfoy's every word as well?

And that brought Harry to where he was now. He felt tears running down his cheeks and they wouldn't stop. And every time he thought he was done crying; another wave would rack his body. His knees were huddled close to his chest while his arms were wrapped around them.

And this all had started because of a damn lesson for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He almost wished that he had been skipped for that lesson. It was like the Dementor incident all over again. Although he didn't see Malfoy reenacting him passing out again. But now the entire school would know what his worst fears would be.

He had even been getting better about it. He would hate remembering seeing his dead body and that knife. But he remembered Professor Lupin's words, it was just an illusion. And whatever connection it was, he could feel it. It was faint, but he could feel it. If someone had asked him to explain it, he wouldn't know how. But he knew that Desmond was alive and breathing and somewhere far away. So, this knowledge gave him hope.

And now he was crying in an abandoned corridor because he couldn't fucking face a Boggart.

He remembered what Hermione had said, they were shape shifters and could turn into your worst fear. Harry didn't need to face one to know what his worst fears were. The Dementor had shown him that. But somehow the professor felt it was necessary for him to face it. Maybe it was because of the professor couldn't allow him to skip it when he allowed everyone else. But he wished he had. Then maybe he wouldn't have looked like a baby when he ran from the classroom. He couldn't even mutter the charm to fight against the boggart. His mind just went completely blank as he stared at the scene. There was so much blood… How was he supposed to turn that into something funny? He couldn't…

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked back.

Harry had expected to see Hermione, or even Ron. Not the person who was in front of him.

"Zabini… here to make fun of me…" Harry mumbled, even to him, he sounded pathetic.

Blaise Zabini didn't even take offense to the comment. His dark eyes were sympathetic as he slowly sat down in front of him.

"Quite the opposite actually, Potter."

Harry actually looked at the Slytherin. There was no hatred or mockery in his face. It actually surprised him. What was his game? Though he knew that he probably looked horrible with puffed up and red eyes. His voice sounded choked up and cracked, as if he hasn't spoken words in months.

"Then what?" Harry bit out.

"I know your pain and I don't believe you should struggle with that on your own," Zabini admitted.

Harry's jaw dropped at him, "you better not be just saying that."

The Slytherin let out a heavy sigh, "I swear I'm not."

Harry slowly let go of his knees as they fell away from his chest.

"My father…" Blaise finally breathed.

Harry felt his breath hitch. He had heard stories from the other Gryffindors about the legendary Black Widow. It was hard not to hear of them and how many husbands she had which were all now dead. Had Zabini witnessed that?

Harry nodded, still unsure what to say.

"Yours?" Zabini prompted, though he expected to be shot down.

Harry sighed and looked down at the stone floor.

"An illusion created by the Dementor from the train… I witnessed him kidnapped…" Harry's voice was soft.

Blaise winced at that. He knew just how horrible dementors could be, they were not a pleasant creature to be around. Though his eyes widened with realization and he couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the Gryffindor. He knew that Dementors typically could create illusions of a witch or wizard's deepest fears. It was practically unheard off… except for one thing. They did have the ability to do that… if they had a soulbond. Even though Blaise did occasionally have nightmares about his father's death. There was some myth about where Soulbonds were literally connected to their very soul and magical core. But maybe… that myth wasn't all lies and fable after all…

Though he hesitated… there was no way he could tell Potter of his suspicions. He didn't think the Gryffindor would believe him. It was a miracle that he hadn't cursed him for witnessing him in his emotional and vulnerable state.

"You realize that wasn't real? None of it was," Blaise finally said.

Harry suddenly looked unsure, "I don't know anymore…"

"Potter, look—" Blaise started before he was cut off.

"Harry," the Gryffindor cut in.

"Huh?" the Slytherin was caught off guard.

Harry then looked embarrassed, "I think you deserve the right to call me, Harry."

Blaise then looked amused, "then its Blaise to you."

That got a half smile from Harry, though he still felt like an emotional wreck.

"Now… before you interrupted me, all you saw was an illusion. I fight with mine somedays too… the difference is. Yours is still alive, don't ever forget that. Use your damn head for once in a while, at least. But that doesn't mean I don't know what its like to lose family, either…" Blaise's voice was soft at the end.

Harry knew what the Slytherin was getting at. And he couldn't help but go tense at it. That had been another dark memory of his. Reliving his memories about his parent's murder. But he couldn't help but feel that similarity between them. None of Harry's friends knew what it was like to lose your family. And Blaise didn't even judge him for his weakness. That had to count for something.

"I didn't think anyone would…" Harry whispered.

Blaise frowned, but he didn't say another word. He just placed a comforting hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder. And this time, Harry didn't back away from it.

* * *

Harry didn't share in the same hype as the rest of his house as the Quidditch Match drew nearer. Though there had been a heavy amount of protesting on how Slytherin House got out of playing against Gryffindor. Even Blaise had given him a helpless shrug on that one. Apparently, since Malfoy had complained enough about his fake injury. Professor Snape had decided to abuse his power as a professor and Head of House. And that's how it got to where they were now, to play against Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin.

And there had been a surprise for Harry. He hadn't expected to keep up this friendship with Blaise. He wasn't really friends with any of the Slytherins and now he was. Ron hadn't been very pleased about that, but he got used to it. But there had been a lot of times that Blaise just preferred to stay silent. Though occasionally Blaise did ask for details about his apparent friend. And Harry never saw it as mocking, more of general curiosity. And for some reason, Harry didn't mind sharing them.

And apparently Blaise had enough.

"How have you not noticed it?" the Slytherin stated.

Harry had glanced up from his assignment, surprised.

"Noticed what? You're going to have to be a bit more specific here."

Blaise made a small groaning noise.

"He's your bloody Soulbond! How can you not know?!"

Harry's face flushed red, "I had some idea…"

Blaise snorted at the mumble; least Harry wasn't completely hopeless.

"The vision would have been a clear answer!"

Harry's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"Harry… Dementors just don't give a witch or wizard a vision of their worst fears. Its always a memory of theirs. But your Soulbond is connected through to your soul and magic. And so, the Dementors can exploit that and doing so, they are able to leave you nothing but anguish. That's the only reason why you had that vision. Normally that would be something only a Boggart can create."

"Ohh…" Harry mumbled.

Blaise rolled his eyes, "I swear… Gryffindors…"

"You Slytherins aren't any better," Harry protested.

"That's a weak argument and you know it," Blaise retorted.

Harry sighed at that; he knew that it was. But at least Blaise wasn't another replica of Malfoy. Though the dark-skinned wizard would more likely curse Malfoy than be associated with him. He guessed the blonde tended to be even more irritating to other Slytherins, not just his house. It made him wonder on how many times they must have cursed him for that.

* * *

The next few hours were nothing but a blur for Harry. He briefly remembered pulling on his Gryffindor Quidditch robes and listening to Wood's lecture. Though he had no idea what Wood was talking about. It literally went through one ear and out the other. Though he wouldn't tell Wood that, his poor ego would get wounded and then the team would hear about it for weeks.

Harry remembered mounting his broom and flying in the piss pouring rain. But it was hard to remember much after that, besides knowing that he was looking for the snitch. Which was near impossible with the weather. And then his nose filled with the smell of blood, it had been enough to almost make him gag. The smell had been so strong, it nearly overwhelmed him.

Harry had almost felt like he was slipping from his broom. He tried to shake his head as if that would get rid of the smell. Maybe he should have dived closer to the ground. He never would have imagined it would be a sign for what happened next.

Hundreds and hundreds of Dementors swarmed the Quidditch Pitch.

And then Harry felt himself actually falling from his broom. The smell of blood still thick on his senses. And then he lost all awareness and he slowly plummeted to the ground.

It was when Harry woke, that he had believed he was dead. At least till Blaise had wacked him against the head.

"Oww… injured here…" Harry protested.

Blaise snorted, "maybe your pride…"

"Umm… Blaise… maybe that's not the best thing to do… He did just fall over one-hundred feet," Hermione said weakly.

Blaise rolled his eyes, "he's not dead yet, is he?"

Hermione just sighed at that but turned her attention to her best friend.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry just groaned.

Hermione glared at Blaise.

"Anyone would groan under Madam Pomfrey's care," Blaise protested.

"I heard that, young man!" came a woman's shout.

Blaise's dark skin went a shade lighter.

"Might want to avoid the Hospital Wing for the next few months," Harry grinned.

"You sure, you're okay?" Hermione asked.

"My pride is wounded, but I'm alright. But that's what happens when I hang around Blaise," Harry joked.

Hermione gave a relieved smile.

Ron howled in laughter.

Blaise just rolled his eyes, "Gryffindors!"

Hermione let out a small snort as her lips twitched.

"Does anyone else smell blood?" Harry suddenly asked.

Hermione shook her head, "you sure you're okay?"

"It'll fade, remember," Blaise reminded.

Harry gave a shaky sigh, that was all the answer he needed. It wasn't one that he wanted but it was one regardless. He was really starting to hate Dementors.

"Dementors?" the small Gryffindor asked.

"They weren't even allowed to be on the grounds. Professor Dumbledore sent them straight off… after you…" she couldn't finish.

Harry laid a gentle hand on top of hers, "Hermione, don't worry so much. I'm still here and obviously I'm just fine. And if Dumbledore sent them away, then no need to worry."

Hermione still looked unsure but nodded.

"Hermione… don't worry as much. And Madam Pomfrey has yet to let me go until I'm fully healed," Harry comforted.

Hermione sighed, "that still don't make me worry less. Promise me you'll ask Professor Lupin on how to fight them."

Harry looked curious at the idea, "that might be a smart idea. You said he chased that one away on the train?"

Hermione and Ron nodded.

"May try to ask him once I get released from this prison," Harry grinned.

"You will not be released until you're good and ready to, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey lectured as she shoved chocolate into his hands.

Harry gave a sheepish grin as he started to nibble on it. He could feel the warmth start returning to this body. He had forgotten that chocolate was one of the best remedies when you countered a Dementor. And he didn't doubt that Madam Pomfrey would go through every little detail before deeming him fit to be released. Sometimes he hated the Hospital Wing, but he preferred living to even think about escaping her clutches. Madam Pomfrey could be frightening when she wanted to be, and he wasn't stupid to think that she wouldn't use a sticking charm on him.

She had to threaten him with that once or twice and he never been brave enough to incur her wrath. He was too terrified of her, plus he knew that she would carry out that threat. To say that she was overprotective of her charges was a huge understatement. And it looked like he was going to be bound to this bed for the next few days. Now if he could just get rid of the smell of blood…


End file.
